


Savior

by ContagiousParadise



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Cults, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eye Horror, Implied Cum Inflation, M/M, Vomit, brainwashing cults, false cicada angel bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContagiousParadise/pseuds/ContagiousParadise
Summary: Vanitas is their savior, their God, and Ventus has been blessed with forging a covenant with him.





	Savior

**Author's Note:**

> The only one who should be reading this is the devil to remind me of why I ended up in hell  
[My twitter](https://twitter.com/ContagusParadse)

Ventus had no memories from his childhood and well into his teenage years, but that was alright. He’d been _ found_. He’d been welcomed into the compound and reminded of everything he’d missed. He’d been given a new family that didn’t mind the way he’d sometimes have crippling headaches or the way he’d stop mid-conversation and only come back to himself hours later with no memory of it. They didn’t mind making sure he took all of the medication that would help him.

They were so kind and caring to him that they’d even cut open his head once to release the evils of the material world that were plaguing him. They’d stitched it up well, and the scar was only noticeable if you knew where to touch. And today was _ special_. Today, he’d be granted access to their savior, their messiah. He’d be allowed in his presence, he’d be allowed to serve him.

It was the highest honor that unfortunately most weren’t suited for.

Brother Masters thought he was suited for the task, to witness someone who could make life from nothing. He’d been taken under his wing since he arrived and allowed to practice taking direction for a few years now and he finally thought he was ready.

Ventus would have to meet their messiah alone, would have to be bathed salt water colored with blood of those who failed. He’d have to give a vial of his own blood for this in case of his own failure, but they’d had plenty to use from all of his other Tidings. In the dark of the new he was to then be cleaned of those failures’ blood and put in white like a full moon, an agreement they hoped to reach.

He’d then be allowed to see him, their _ savior_.

Ventus was nothing but humbled by the ceremony, eager to meet him, but he didn’t let it show aside from a wide smile whenever they asked how he was feeling. They called him sweet and pepper him in kisses, which was something they did often.

Their savior was practically a God, so he had to be kept where his power could be contained, where the masses wouldn’t try to hurt him. Ventus had been told he might have been a bit unusual, but he was here to give them all salvation. He just needed convincing and pleasing. The only rule Ventus was given was not to let him out of the room they had their savior in, but he was allowed to do and get him anything else.

The first door was heavily locked, a door of salt and iron and silver. The oldest members were to always remain outside the door, chanting blessings and hymns, not allowed to stop until their final breath—or until it was time to trade off for meals.

They kept chanting, even as the key to the next door was slipped around Ventus’ neck. He bowed, the weight of it reminding him of how honored he felt. He couldn’t help but hold the key in his fingers and take in the reality of it all, they key’s veins pulsing with life, the embalmed eye of their savior floating in the handle. It was _ lovely_.

Ventus gently eased the key into the lock, the lock dripping blood in eager welcome. Ventus bit his bottom lip as he tried to steady his breathing, but being in space where no one outside could hear him and listening to his own gasping—it excited him too much. Even if he hadn’t collected himself yet, he turned the key, the lock squelching, and opened the door.

A lazy eye made its way to him, taking a long time to focus on him. He turned his head, the empty left eye socket scalding black like his hair. His wings looked as though they were molting, feathers littering the floor with rotting chunks of flesh.

The room was dark, empty save for a lounge chair and bed both stained deep red with black finish. Mirrors were forbidden since their savior could abandon them and vanish into one. His legs were kicked up over the side, chin in his hand. He was as glorious as a statue made by the masters in the renaissance, even if their God _ had _ been a false one.

“So…you’re the next fucked up little bastard come to ask for favors, huh?”

“No, I’ve come to serve you.” Ventus corrected. It was an equal exchange, doing whatever their savior wanted so long as he granted them salvation and left everyone else to rot. It was a proper deal, a proper bargain. They just needed to show him someone was worthy of it. It wasn’t a favor if their savior was getting something out of it.

“Right, cool, let’s skip the shit. Slit your throat or whatever, I’m not in the mood.” He ripped a feather out, tossing it like a dart at Ventus. It grazed his cheekbone, lodging into the wall.

“But if I do that, I can’t serve you.” Ventus reminded. Blood dripped down his cheek. He’d been told if the savior really had no need of him anymore, he’d take his life himself and show him he had failed rather than Ventus giving up on his duties.

“I don’t caaaaare! Tell your weird little fucking humans I don’t give a shit! I don’t want any of you fucking weirdos or your dumb human shit! I really never thought angels could be fucking tortured, but _here we are!_”

“Tortured? We’re not torturing you.” They were keeping him safe in this small room, which might have been a bit of a burden, but it was for his own safety! Ventus had been in a similar situation when they’d first found him, but he grew accustomed to his box and eating through the tube until they let him out.

“You _ are_—you really fucking are. Do you know how long I’ve been in this tiny ass room with your short lived lives and your dumb little nonsensical requests? I’m over it. Sooo over this shit. If I was capable of dying, I’d do it myself!”

“You want…to die?” Ventus asked in bewilderment. How was that supposed to be something he could do for him? It was unsaid, but obviously their savior couldn’t very well die! Ventus pulled the feather out of the wall, struggling, fingers slicing themselves on the hollow shaft.

“No fucking shit!” He snapped, slamming his feet down onto the cement. Ventus’ eyes flicked over to their savior, then back to the feather. He pulled again, removing it from the wall. He approached him, then knelt down in front of him and offered him back his feather, hands cupped like water and raised above his head.

“Have others asked you for other things aside from our salvation?” Everyone wanted to be saved, of course.

“Can you like, _ drown me _ in holy water—is that an option?” He hadn’t taken his feather back. Was his lack of an answer proof that every failure before him had asked for salvation?

“I won’t ask you for anything—even salvation.” Ventus decided if he could save everyone else at the cost of himself, it was a worthy trade. He would be revered and remembered, which was probably below being saved.

Their savior cocked an eyebrow at him, taking his feather back from him and throwing it to the ground. “Sure you won’t—least not now.”

“I won’t. Ever.” Ventus promised, lowering his hands into his lap, looking up at him.

“And when you do?” he sounded tired, bored.

“I _ won’t_.” Ventus insisted, a fire of resilience in his eyes.

“…Then let’s make a promise. Consider angel promises like demon deals in their severity.” The corner of his mouth curled up as he leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee as his arm dangled between his legs. “What’s your name?”

“Ventus,” he answered all too eagerly.

“_Ventus,_” he hissed his name, a stain upon the fabric of the universe. “If you ever ask me for anything, you have to give your body and soul to me. You’ll be mine to do with as I please and you’ll have to do everything I say, even if they break your shitty little rules.”

“I’m already yours.” Ventus reminded.

“Would you bring me a mirror?” he asked, nose to nose with Ventus. He didn’t have the comprehension skills to realize he should have pulled away, that his breath was being borrowed by something that didn’t need it.

“I can’t.”

“Then you’re not mine—not really. You’re just saying you are. You’re _ lying _to me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ventus mumbled softly.

“So, make this promise with me since you insist you won’t ask things of me and you’ve already shown me you’re a _ liar_. Seems like a pretty fair playing field, doesn’t it?” He leaned back into his chair, crossing his legs, arms lounging on the arm rests.

“I won’t ever ask anything of you.” Ventus insisted, grabbing for his knees, desperate for his proximity, for him not to pull away. Ventus was good at proving himself.

“Then open your mouth.” He bit the palm of his hand, then clenched his fist over his face. Blood dripped onto Ventus’ cheek, his chin, and waiting tongue. He squeezed, blood a steady stream into his mouth, watching as Ventus’ adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the pool that had collected in the back of his throat.

“My name is Vanitas, angel of self reflection, and this is the covenant you’ve forged with me; if you ever ask me for anything, then you’ll lose everything to me.” Vanitas unclenched his hand and let it rest against the arm of the chair, Ventus still waiting with an open mouth. It was hard to be serious when he wanted to berate him, but he was also curious how long he’d sit like that before getting the hint.

Vanitas stared, waiting, listening to his even pulse, his breathing. Vanitas was forced to be nothing but patient while he waited for an opportunity to escape, so it made him rather short about everything else. He waited about three minutes before he was over it.

“Waiting for something else? A dick, perhaps?”

Ventus closed his mouth. “If you wanted me to.” He’d heard of stories of angels having children with humans, so it wasn’t outlandish for Vanitas to have one. But he’d never heard of them using it for pleasure, but maybe that was because they were always so busy overseeing the universe rather than a form of celibacy.

“Get it out of my pants yourself then.”

“Do you want me to?” he asked with wide eyes, but not a hint of malice or suprise. He was eager to please, but that made it hard to trick him right away. He would have asked for it without words, but words were more binding. Vanitas grunted, leaning back into the chair and resting his chin on his hand.

“If you’re gonna keep sitting down there, you may as fucking well.”

* * *

“Has Ventus not been satisfying your needs and desires for these past few months?”

Vanitas sat with his legs lazily spread open, Ventus on his knees in front of him with his head tipped back. Ventus’ family was under the impression Vanitas didn’t actually need or want sex. They were under the impression this was for show, anything to unsettle them and let him go.

“He has.” Vanitas thrusted three of his fingers in and out of Ventus’ waiting and open mouth and along his tongue, covered in thick saliva. Ventus had pleased him repeatedly in ways he wasn’t aware he’d been able to offer. Vanitas had always kept his face pressed into the pillows, not allowing him to look at him.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Why will you still not grant us salvation?”

Ventus tensed, relaxed, Vanitas glancing down to watch his throat tense around his fingers.

“You’re a cocky bastard aren’t you?” Vanitas asked as Ventus yanked away and vomited beside his chair.

“I find myself being rather reasonable!” he objected.

“Sorry…” Ventus rasped softly. Vanitas grabbed him up by his chin, sure to leave a bruise.

“Open,” he demanded. Ventus opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, Vanitas shoving his fingers into his mouth again. Ventus’ voice hitched, but he made no sound after that. “No, I find you’re being, as I’ve said, a cocky bastard. You think you can throw me all your fucking weirdoes who offed themselves and then expect the second something is going well that I’m just gonna do whatever you want?”

“I—”

“Get the _ fuck _out.” Vanitas snarled, removing his fingers from Ventus’ mouth and flicking the saliva at the man. Ventus hadn’t closed his mouth. Vanitas grabbed a fistful of his hair from the back of his head, waiting. Ventus undid his belt, it clattering to the floor.

“I said get ouuut.” Vanitas groaned in annoyance, tipping his head back over his chair. He listened to his receding footsteps, listened to his second belt hit the floor. Ventus dutilfy pulled him out of his pants and put him in his mouth. Ventus didn’t suck or try to use his hands. He knew Vanitas liked it better when he just took it, when he fucked his throat. He’d gotten better at not choking.

“What do you think should we have for dinner, Ventus? Seconds sounding good to you?” Vanitas taunted, looking over at his vomit. He pulled Ventus off of his cock, letting him answer.

“I’ll do whatever you’d like me to.” It was always the same, earnest, genuine bullshit with him. Vanitas sucked his teeth in annoyance, shoving him back down onto his cock.

“You’re never any damn fun.” How could they expect to be satisfied with just a few months when it had taken them however long to brainwash him so damn thoroughly? He was having a hard enough time getting Ventus to talk about himself when it all revolved around the obscene desire to please him and the group he’d been stuck with. Anything before that was blank, missing, useless to Vanitas.

It was ironic, his name also dictating him as an angel of nothingness and that was what Ventus had. It was _ frustrating_. It was _ satisfying_. Vanitas gripped at his hair, Ventus swallowing his orgasm down without a word. Vanitas sighed through his nose in annoyance and resumed using him.

* * *

Ventus stood on the compost of Vanitas’ wings, hollow shafts biting into the bottoms of his feet. He shifted, wincing, but didn’t make a sound. His clothes sat in a messy pile at the door.

“I’m tired…Ventus…” Vantias whispered, hand using the wall behind him for support. He was on his knees, head bowed. Ventus gently ran a hand through his hair, veins thick and throbbing against his back. Vanitas grabbed for his wrist, jerking and violent, but he could barely grip his wrist tight enough to hold onto him.

“How can I help?” Ventus asked softly, snapping coming form Vanitas’ spine, something roiling underneath his skin. He let go of Ventus’ wrist.

“There’s nothing you’d be willing to do…” Vanitas gave a bitter laugh, hand trembling with nerves.

“Then what can I do to distract you from your pain?” Ventus gently tipped Vanitas’ head back, crouching down to press his forehead to his. Ventus wiped a thick tear of blood from Vanitas’ cheek.

“Turn around,” he croaked, Ventus closing his eyes to kiss his forehead. He stood up, making small, shuffling steps to turn around. There was a sickening, wet snap, a crunch like thick bones being broken apart, gristle and marrow hitting the floor with chunks of flesh.

Ventus knew not to turn around. He knew not to ask about the extra hands gripping at his waist. He knew not to mention how when Vanitas was inside of him it was thicker, rigid and much deeper than usual. He knew not to listen to the angelic words that would make him dip in and out of consciousness. He knew not to ask about the shell of Vanitas’ body that rested like a cicada corpse next to his feet. He knew not to look at the true form of an angel.

“Vanitas…_Vanitas…! _Ah...Mm…!”

Vanitas shoved his fingers into Ventus’ mouth, grunting, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He tried not to shift his weight too much, tried not to slice his feet anymore than necessary. Ventus’ vision blurred as Vanitas whispered something in his ear, his voice echoing around in his head metal ball in a glass chamber. Ventus sighed around his fingers, the tip of his cock pressing against the wall.

Feathers gently fell to the floor, rotting out of his back with every thrust.

* * *

“Why has he not granted us salvation?” Brother Masters asked Ventus. Physically, he was here, in the compound with everyone else, but his mind kept wandering back to the blood dyed chamber with Vanitas.

“He’s unhappy…it’s a stalemate and a paradox. He wants to be free, but if he’s free we won’t have our salvation. I think…I think he’s starting to die. He molts everywhere and sometimes seems incapable of moving for hours on end.”

“Ventus, Ventus. Don’t you see? That’s the task that’s been given to you. You need to find a way to convince him that he’s getting what he wants so long as we get what we want.”

“Once we’re saved, we’ll grant him his freedom?” Ventus asked, knowing he sounded too hopeful, too attached.

“You’re clever enough to come up with an answer, aren’t you? If not, then it’s your job to make one. Save us all, Ventus. You can vicariously be our messiah.” He said it so casually, so flippantly—that startled Ventus. He clutched at the key around his neck. He’d always been told Vanitas was their savior. _ No one _ else. How could he so easily shift that onto Ventus? How could he say such a thing?

“…I understand.” Ventus had been willing to do anything for them to be saved. Brother Masters was willing to do anything to be saved. No one in the compound was dying, was miserable. Ventus was happy with everyone and wanted to ensure their happiness.

The only one unhappy here was and always had been Vanitas.

“I’ll speak with him about it again today.” Ventus promised, as if he hadn’t taken up residence with Vanitas for the past four years.

“I’m happy to hear that, Ventus.”

* * *

“Vanitas, is there a reason I’m not allowed to see what you look like?” Ventus asked, sitting on the edge of his bed. Vanitas had his back to him, Ventus gently running his fingers through his wings and removing the feathers that had been falling out, cutting into him.

“Cuz I’m so hot your eyeballs would melt out of your skull.” Vanitas snapped sarcastically, rolling over onto his side. Ventus wasn’t sure when the last time he’d worn clothes in this room was. Ventus ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his face. Vanitas grabbed at his wrist, shoving him away.

“Is there a reason we have your eye in a key?”

“It’s nice to feel similarities to things that feel so out of reach, isn’t it? To make them more known, more worldly. It’s nice to know even holy things _ bleed. _” Vanitas grabbed the key around Ventus neck and yanked him close, pausing just before their foreheads crashed together.

“Am I able to give it back?” Ventus asked softly, throwing his leg over Vanitas’ waist.

“I think you know by now that it doesn’t really matter if it’s in my skull or not,” he scoffed. Vanitas’ hands naturally found their hold on his hips, practically formed divets from how often he held him, bruised him.

“But it’s yours.”

“It’s _ ruined._” Vanitas snapped. Ventus swallowed. Once he’d been blessed with his name, Ventus had studied the meaning of the name Vanitas. Names were an all encompassing summary of otherworldly creatures.

“…I’m also yours.” Vanitas narrowed his eyes, staring at Ventus. He sat up, forehead pressed to his in challenge.

“I will take and take until there is _ nothing _ left of you.” Angel of self reflection was a polite way to say an angel of vanity. Ventus studied the empty socket and it’s void, it’s _nothingness_. Vanitas was also an angel of nothing. He’d given them what he was an angel of already. He had no salvation to offer.

“Then take from me.” Ventus whispered softly, cold key pressed between their chests. Vanitas grabbed at his butt, squeezing and separating his cheeks. Ventus sighed, reaching between them to undo Vanitas’ belts. They slid off the edge of the bed, clattering to the floor, Ventus being shoved back against the mattress.

Vanitas wasn’t gentle and never had been. Ventus had learned if he wanted comfortability and ease, he needed to take care of that himself or he needed to ensure Vanitas had sex with him frequently enough to where it didn’t hurt.

Ventus gave a heavy sigh, teetering along the edge of a moan as he grasped Vanitas in his hand, squeezing, pulling his fingers back, and tugging at him. It was so familiar, so easy to get him hard now. Vanitas grabbed at his wrist, pinning it above his head.

He pressed inside of him and Ventus groaned, hips sliding down to meet him. Vanitas thrust up into him, hard and unrelenting as if trying to shatter him. Ventus locked his legs around his middle, calling his name in reverence the way he always did.

“Vanitas—_Ah! _ Vanitas…! Oh!” Ventus struggled to breathe, fingers forced into his mouth. He sucked on them, tongue working between them, bed slamming into the wall over and over. There was a snap and Ventus wasn’t sure if it was from deep inside of him or from Vanitas, but he’d resigned himself to this, to him.

There was another snap and Ventus felt it reverberate inside of him. Vanitas’ wing flapped, struggled. His flesh grew translucent, muscles and veins and sinew seen underneath it. Ventus groaned, trying to pull his wrists out from under Vanitas’ grip to cling to him. The struggle was useless, futile, so he arched his back instead, thrusting himself down onto Vanitas.

His back popped open, Vanitas struggling out of it, untwisting himself from his flesh shell. But he hadn’t stopped, kept throwing his waist into Ventus, holding him in place. A long limb pulled out of his back, replacing the hand pinning Ventus’ wrists. The second pulled and tugged, body snapping bones and hips snapping into him, harder, deeper.

Ventus hadn’t stopped moaning his name.

“Vanitas! Vanitas—ah, ah, Van—ah! Vanitas—! Vani…! Vanitas!”

For once, he didn’t sound restrained, he didn’t try to sound polite. He was so focused on watching Vanitas he didn’t care how desperate and unhinged he sounded. The second set of arms grabbed at his hips, the shell of flesh inside of Ventus separating from Vanitas’ true form as he pulled away, then clinging to him again as he slammed into him.

Vanitas’ hissed, grunting and frustrated as he pulled out of his sorry excuse for a body. He’d been in it far too long, like rotting sausage in fresh casing. He needed to breathe, needed to heal.

Ventus keened his name, Vanitas slipping out of his shell in a mess of blood and rot. His true body was exposed veins and charred flesh, a halo crafted bone protruding from his skull. He left his shell inside of Ventus.

Ventus came.

“Fff—_AH…! _ Haaaa, haa…Vanitas…Ah, Vanitas. More…! Vanitas…!” 

“More?” Vanitas snarled with laughter, pressing his real cock, twice the size of Ventus’ against his.

“More, please!” Ventus begged, asking something of Vanitas. He ran a hand through his hair, exposing his missing eye, laughing.

“_Finally!_” His laughter was relief, was delight, was ecstasy. He yanked his shell out of Ventus, tossing it on the floor. He threw himself into Ventus, curling his body over him, dripping blood onto him. Ventus cried out and Vanitas didn’t care if it was in pain or delight. “I _ finally _ get a request out of your air-headed ass and it’s you asking to be _ fucked _some more!”

Vanitas’ smirk dropped. Ventus panted underneath him, not at all shocked by the realization he’d asked him for something. It had been planned—Ventus had done it on purpose. Vanitas couldn’t help the noise that bubbled up from his throat, broken and confused. He hadn’t tricked him into it, even after all of this time. Humans were so very interesting.

“You _ want _ this? You _ want _to let me out?” He asked, letting his wrists go, letting his waist go. Ventus reached up and locked his arms around Vanitas’ neck.

“Vanitas…more?” he whispered softly. Humans were interesting—maddening. He felt his halo crack, but it didn’t break. Lucky him, it never broke, and he hadn’t broken Ventus.

“You’re asking for something from me when I told you I’d make you nothing…did you want to trade, is that it?” Vanitas leaned forward, licking at his left eyelid. Ventus rocked his hips, purposefully clenching his insides around Vanitas. “_Fine._”

He thrust into him, Ventus groaning and dipping his head forward, pressing it against Vanitas’ shoulder. His body stuck to Ventus’ insides, dragging and clinging and stretching him open. How easily human bodies adapted, desired.

He watched Ventus’ stomach bulge every time he thrust into him, he listened to him moan and how it made his adam’s apple bob. He held Ventus by his throat, another holding his hair close to his scalp. He kissed his left eye, then reached his thumbs over to hold his eyelids open.

“Vanitas…” Ventus sighed, brilliant blue eyes studying him. Vanitas extended his tongue, pressing it underneath his eye, into his skull. Ventus moaned, Vanitas grabbing for his cock and squeezing at the base, denying him.

He pressed his lips to his eye and sucked, curling his tongue around his optic nerve. Ventus clenched around him, moaning. Vanitas sucked, pulling the eye from his skull and letting it sit in his mouth. He swallowed, as far as he could before biting into the nerve, Ventus clawing at Vanitas’ back, legs kicking, but he didn’t scream. He tensed, Vanitas groaning in delight before he pulled back and thrusts into him.

He blinked, vision blurring, then correcting. Ventus’ moans where riddled with whimpers, Vanitas liking the blood away. He tucked the remainder of the nerve back into his skull with his tongue, ignoring the blood, ignoring how hard it was to do so while his body moved with every thrust.

“Want to see something cool?” Vanitas hissed, blinking several times before he let his vision go black, Ventus able to see the look on his own face. Vanitas glanced down at his stomach, at the cum all over his stomach, at his stretched hole.

“V…Vanitas…” he choked, Vanitas blinking and stealing the processing of the eye’s vision.

“Time for you to hold up your end of our deal, Ventus—after I fill you up to the brim, through.” Vanitas purred, nipping at his throat. Ventus groaned, Vanitas unrelenting as he thrusted into him.

* * *

Someone screamed.

Brother Masters had been fine with giving Ventus the title of messiah, of savior. So Ventus had decided to use it—he just hadn’t used it for them. He used it for Vanitas. Part of Ventus expected him to just escape, to leave, but he hadn’t.

“Turning a blind eye, Ventus?” Vanitas whispered in his ear, angelic and making his head spin. The compound was on fire, Vanitas’ tail flicking the blood off of the person it had ran through. Ventus tipped his head back over his shoulder, reaching up to loop his arms around his neck.

“Is that a joke?”

Vanitas snickered, biting at his shoulder, drawing blood. Ventus winced, but only groaned when Vanitas reached between his legs. His knees buckled and he pitched forward, Vanitas thrusting into him in front of the mirror.

Mirror, mirror, so many mirrors. Ventus had blacked out, but that wasn’t unusual, so he wasn’t scared by it. Only this time, Vanitas had initiated his black out, had possessed his body, had been able to see all of Ventus’ memories except the ones he’d lost.

Vanitas hadn’t even needed to leave the room. He hadn’t even needed to pull out of Ventus to kill them all, to set them on fire, to press his tail or spare hands through the mirror and twist their necks or run them through and hold their still beating hearts.

“_Call my name,_” he demanded, watching the elders at the door burning.

“Vanitas…!” Ventus moaned.

“_Again,_” he snapped.

“_Vantias_—ah! More!_ Harder…! Vanitas!_”

“Tell them who it is that’s ending their _ miserable, shit hole _lives for locking me away.”

“Vanitas!” Ventus came, Vanitas groaning, _ loving _the way his voice pitched. He’d forgotten what it was like to love something he’d been here so long. The rot of his wings by the bed started to stir, started to create life. He’d been in here so long he hadn’t felt much but contempt or violent disapproval.

A pitcher plant of veins and thin skin like bat wings pulled itself from the void, it flapped its wings, hope like the remnants of pandora’s box inside of it. Hope—what a prize to win from his years of torture. A prize pod.

It shrieked and threw itself through the mirror, another monster to attack the humans who’d done this to him. Vanitas groaned in delight at their screaming, at the warmth of Ventus’ insides.

“Call my name again, Venty.” He gave a lazy purr, feeling himself get close. He wouldn’t stop until they were all gone, until Ventus was so full he would be able to_ taste his cum _coming up in his throat from his stomach.

“Vani…tas…! Ah…!”

Someone’s scream was cut off; Vanitas came inside of Ventus again. Vanitas’ body pumped into him, an excessive amount because of his size and thicker than any humans. He thrust into him again, Ventus own orgasm dripping all over the mirror, Vanitas’ down his legs.

“_Call my name._”


End file.
